


Interlude B19

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [173]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Doctor Sexy M.D. (Supernatural), Doctors & Physicians, Exhaustion, F/M, Gay Sex, Jealousy, London, M/M, Threats, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:52:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ There is exhaustion, evasion, no jealousy whatsoever - and some threats!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vignahara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vignahara/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

I returned from seeing off our visitor and smiled innocently at John.

“It really was very good of Doctor Saecksi to drop in on his way through to the Continent, was it not?” I said.

His pout could probably have been seen from the Park. He was not having much luck with attractive men coming back into our lives just when he thought I was his (which I was), and in particular the visits of Lowen and Benji always aroused his jealousy. Among other things.

“At least he is staying over there”, John grumbled. “Good riddance!”

“He is still quite attractive”, I mused. “He looks even more like the doctor in those stories that you hardly ever read.”

He pouted even more adorably, which was very wrong of him. When he looked like that our evening in was only ever going to end one way.

֍

It did. Hallelujah!

֍


	2. Chapter 2

_[Narration by Sir Peter Greenwood, Baronet]_

It really is a funny old world at times. Now that I was a baronet I suddenly found myself in the papers far more often than I could ever have dreamed of, even if it was usually about my being seen attending some sort of event or other. Being a doctor was a double blessing in that I was so often able to decline invitations that I was desperate to avoid on the grounds of my being on call, as soothing a new baby into the world was often a lot easier than spending three hours listening to some oversized lady screeching about how miserable and unhappy she was. Out of tune. And in Italian.

Being a doctor also meant a lot of times when doctor-patient confidentiality became an issue, and nowhere was this more important than with my good friend John Watson. I had been aware for a long time that he and his friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes had something between them that was rather more than friendship, but following the latter's return to London things had changed suddenly and dramatically. What was left of John had come round to see me some weeks later asking if I could fit him in for a physical examination, to which of course I obliged. Save to say I had never seen anyone so close to complete sexual exhaustion!

No I was not jealous. I was happily married and.... maybe just a tad envious, that was all. And a certain spouse simpering at a certain detective the one time that she had seen him.... that had been downright annoying!

John had been forty-two years old when his friend returned and I quickly knew that he was worried that age might be a factor limiting certain activities. Although from his regular check-ups over the ensuing months and years, it did not seem to be limiting much at all! And I did not make fun of the poor fellow when he actually fell asleep on the couch that one time. 

Not that much.

֍


	3. Chapter 3

_[Narration by Sir Charles Holmes. Baronet]_

I am growing increasingly concerned about my son Ranulph, who frankly was never that much of a human being to start with. But ever since he has joined the Sanspareil Club where the members are as narrow-minded as he himself is (it is a small club) he has contrived to become even worse. If he lived his own life to the standards that he demands of everyone else then that might be well enough, but the Wife and I are both fully aware that he does not. Indeed, he does not so much fall short as fall over the starting-line.

I had a visit from one of the most powerful ladies in London yesterday, Miss Charlotta Bradbury who works for the Middleton's Information Agency of which my son Sherlock has sometimes spoken. She has I feel been instrumental in helping protect him in his dangerous career, and she informed me that Ranulph has started making threats towards his younger brother. Without exactly saying it she conveyed the message that she did not take kindly to such behaviour and that if it went too far then there would be Consequences. 

I do not think that I have shuddered quite that much since the wife did that collection of nursery rhyme stories. For adults!

I did suggest that Miss Bradbury might like to attend our next party but she said that she had only narrowly avoided two of my wife's stories of late, first by evading an invitation on grounds of urgent business and second when Sherlock, who can be a mischievous imp when the urge strikes, suggested that he might relate it to her. I am sure the boy was also behind arranging for Luke's new lover's half-brothers to visit and mark the boy's birthday, which led to a horrible moment when what was left of my second son limped round to complain about how much he was hurting and, in what was for him a rare moment of utter stupidity, told my dear wife all that had happened. He really should have known better; she insisted on taking down _all_ the details for another dreadful story and fortunately I had an urgent telegram calling me away on business (I keep a stack of them just in case). That reminds me; I do not think it was coincidence that Miss Bradbury just happened to call just moments after the wife had gone off to another meeting of her Coven.

I meant 'of her Writing Circle'.

֍


End file.
